Pilgrims of Harlot
He woke up in the middle of the night. There were some vultures on the roof, they were watching the young boy silently. Since he has been born none has came to his land, only his guarding dog and talented cat. He wielded his gun at his belt and left his house unlocked.
He saw a group of pilgrims walking through, they were looking for the town. He aimed his gun at them, his knees were weak. Under his clothes, only ribs, kneecaps and his gun was holding together. Many days only drinking milk left his appearance weak but not worse than how he was. His unfinished glass of milk was left on the table this night.
The pilgrims were not as how he expected, they had some strings falling off of their clothes and they had very tender voice. Something close to his own mother's but completely different; charming, angelic. Clothes that they were wearing was different than each other. Only thing that made them a union was the emptiness between their legs. It was pleasant for the boy to experience such a sight. He slowly cleaned his gun while watching the landscape. Even though he thought he was out of sight, a pilgrim prisoned him with her eyes and said,
"What made your eyes shine in this dark of the night?"
The boy was silent, his eyes struck, he waited.
"We are not regular pilgrims, we are Harlots, the pilgrims of Harlot. May you bestow your house to us?"
"Yes, it would be such pleasure to me."
"Thank you, youngster."
She went to youngster's house, it was not touched at all but it wasn't dirty either. There were some paint schemes, some writings and some color strokes in walls. She startled him with the question,
"Am I your first guest?"
"No, plenty of people come and go, they like this place more than I do."
The pilgrim of Harlot realized the boy has never had a guest, especially after his answer and his indecisiveness,
"Is it so?"
Youngster thought he would lose this guest and he will be alone his whole life after eighteen years of solitude, as he promised his father whom works at the government
"It is, they really like my gun but I never let them have it, it is too dangerous to play with."
"Us, the pilgrims of Harlot, oftentimes get called as gunslingers."
"Why is that?"
"Once back in the day, some skeptics tried to oppress us and showed that they wanted us to learn how to use guns. Otherwise we couldn't fight, although we lost those fights, now we teach each other just in case."
"I see."
"May I hold it?"
The boy was once again speechless,
"Or are you still scared?"
Youngster loosened his belt. In the meantime she picked up an apple from the table. Took a bite and held the gun, she slowly drove her hands on it. Right when she was playing with the trigger, it fired. Broke the glass of milk.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have given that to you. It's my mistake."
"No, calm down. It was in my hand, no worries."
Owner of the gun, our man, reached to the gun and clenched it quickly. Looked for the barrel of the gun as the smoke flew slowly. Said,
"Can you shoot it again? Teach me how to do it."
"I must leave, thanks for letting me stay for the night."
Pilgrim left the house, our man pulled the trigger once again to not see any pilgrim again and painted the house red with the back of his head.
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